Yet He Still Calls
by Jonochi
Summary: Denise Anne Collard was orphaned at 6 and spent her later years with Roland Tiquet, pianist at the Opera Populaire. At the age of 9 she began taking ballet lessons at the opera house. She also leaned a great deal on the mysterious, 'Opera Ghost'.
1. What Does a Child Lose?

**Disclaimer:**  
I do not own the Phantom of the Opera. Nope. I have a book, a plushie, and a soundtrack! That is it! Sooo...Yeah! Gaston Leroux is the one to thank for the Phantom!

**Info:  
**This was my very first attempt at a good Phanfic...sooo...yeah...tell me what you think, REVIEW! Also, sorry it's is so short, the next chapter will probably be pretty short too, but after that, they will definitely grow! If you spot any grammar mistakes or something spelled wrong, also inform me! Thank you!

**-x-**

Chapter I: What _Does_ a Chold Lose?

"Denise!" cried the distant voice of a man or a boy, that could not be distinguished with the many other voices that seemed to follow it. "Denise!" it repeated. This call seemed to echo throughout the open field in which Denise Anne Collard, a girl of six with dashing green eyes and blazing red hair stood in her lilac dress and bare feet. Isn't that funny how dreams work? Denise thought it odd that the voice would echo in the beautiful flower-spotted field she was in. She ran toward the voice, then flew, her feet lifting from the ground as simply as if a raindrop had been falling upward. Where had he been calling from? Who was he? Was it that playful boy, Joseph Vernet, with the wooden horses? Oh, how Denise hoped it was him! Suddenly, the colorful flowers faded and a black-painted board appeared before Denise's eyes.

What a night that was! The delighted Denise hopped out of her bed and did a few stretches, then touched the black board that was her dresser. She ran to her bathroom to fix her messy hair. She was always so picky about her hair. If the bow the ribbon made was crooked, she may very well throw a fit and become stiff as a board! Denise gave a soft cry and bounded out of the bathroom toward her mother's room. Her mother, Anne Carine Collard, was sitting in a chair, scribbling on random pieces of parchment. Anne looked up at the smiling child that stood before her and smiled herself. Denise threw herself into her mother's arms and, together, they got dressed, ate a breakfast roll, and pranced out of their home.

It was a bright, sunny day. Only a few clouds dotted the sky here and there, while birds chirped peacefully in the nearby trees. Denise and Anne stopped to watch the people headed to the opera house for the performance that was to start soon go by. It was to be _Faust_, one that Denise had seen once before. She didn't much care for it, but loved the beautiful opera house that it was held in. Anne had never really cared for the shows that were always put on. She would go for the soul purpose of Denise, who would always drag her mother along to the ones that she found most amusing. Today was no exception! After a few minutes of taking in the sweet silence, the pair went straight to the Opera Populaire.

Afterwards, Anne and Denise started for home. Denise was still singing the wonderful songs from _Faust_, while Anne stood watching her, a smile playing delightfully on her face. There was a scream nearby. A fire. Denise recognised at once that her house was on fire and dashed to it as fast as she could, crying for her dog, who was still inside. Denise entered the flaming door frame in search of Joseph, who had been curiously named by Denise herself. She called out his name numerous times while Anne, also calling, but for Denise, was frantically searching for her daughter.

It seemed like seconds after Denise looked up to see a wood beam fall between her and her mother, then another one fell to hit her, that her eyes snapped open. Where was she? Why was she hurting? She looked around to recognize Joseph Vernet's living room. The small wooden horses which she had always played with were set neatly in a row on the mantlepeice. She sat up to see Marie Vernet, Joseph's mother, stitching something together or so it seemed.

"What happened?" Asked the shy Denise. Marie looked up at the child and walked over to her. She sat down on the couch near her and held her in her arms. "What happened?" Denise repeated, "Where's my mother?"

"The fire, Denise, the fire took her...and poor Joseph Dog too..." Marie began to weep into Denise's hair. Denise pushed her away, also crying.

"You found me and took me out?"

"You should have left me to die! I don't want to live without my mother!" Denise began to sob harder.

"I'm sorry for your loss, dear," repeated Marie.

"What do you know what I lost?" shouted the six year old girl through her tears. "Huh? What do you know!"

"You're right Denise, what _does_ a child lose?"

**-x-**


	2. That Voice, Who is he?

**Disclaimer:  
**Yeah, PotO doesn't belong to me...you know how that goes.

**Info:  
**Sooo...Onto chapter two. Heh, I didn't get any reveiws! Exept the one I gave myself..But that one doesn't count! Anyway, Enjoy! Once again, if there's any mistakes at all, inform me! Also, I'll say again, sorry it's so short, three is longer!

**-x-**

Chapter II: That Voice, Who is _He_?

Denise scrambled around her room attempting, to pull on some shoes and clothes before she would be later than she already was. It had been three years since the dreadful accident. She was now living with a pianist from the Opera Populaire; Roland Tiquet. He was a widower and had no children of his own. She went to live with him about one and a half months after Anne Carine Collard had passed away. Marie Vernet had helped Denise settle in with him. Aside from living with the pianist, she was also training to be a ballerina, under Madame Giry. Mme. Giry was rather strict, and Denise was always late.

Denise hurried out without saying a word to Roland or having breakfast. She raced to the opera house as fast as she could, her hair flying carelessly in the wind. She had gone from being a once stuck-up six-year-old who had to have everything perfect, to a carefree nine-year-old. M. Tiquet was very kind to her and had helped her forget her worries. He was also teaching her to play the piano, but she hardly ever practiced. She would rather dance to the beautiful music that her guardian made.

As Denise entered the opera house, she hurridly ran to the stage where she was to meet Mme. Giry for lessons. Mme. Giry had already started and totally ignored Denise when she gave her usual "sorry". Denise ran to the back with her friend Elisabeth Boissel. Mme. Giry gave Denise a look that made her stomach churn. She was in trouble...again.

After the lesson and a rather long lecture about being on time thoughtfully given by Mme. Giry, Denise and Elisabeth sat in the rafters of the opera house overlooking the stage. They were having an apple and giggling with eachother over funny stories. They spoke of the lesson and pointed out the parts they enjoyed and those they didn't. Elisabeth stopped talking abruptly and pointed down at the stage. Christine Daaé had just appeared from a door and was standing on the stage with Mme. Giry and Meg Giry, Mme. Giry's daughter. Christine was about the same age as Denise, only a year or so apart, but Denise didn't know; she never cared to ask. Denise liked Christine, but she hardly ever talked to her.

Christine and the Giry family parted. Christine went to her dressing room; Meg and Mme. Giry left the building. Elisabeth stated, "We should leave too, huh?"  
"Yeah," Denise sighed. The two made their descent from the rafters and bid each other good-bye. Denise started to walk out, but thought she heard someone speaking. She did!

"Don't hold back, Angel," the voice said. Who was it? It was a very distant voice, but it boomed with power, even though it was nearly silent. She followed the direction she thought it came from, the direction Christine took to get to her dressing room. Denise didn't hear the voice again, but stopped in from of Christine's dressing room to find her singing. Denise smiled at her own insanity and began to walk away, just as the voice spoke again. _Inside Christine's dressing room_. Denise whirled around. It was him again! That voice she had heard earlier! Who was in there with Christine, singing with her so beautifully? The two had stopped singing. Did they know Denise was there listening? Denise walked a few feet away from the door. Just in time. The door swung open and Christine walked out, smiling. Denise waited for Christine to be out of sight before she ran off for home. Denise lay on her bed that night staring at the ceiling. All day that voice rang in her head. She wanted to know who he was. Why? She couldn't say. He seemed so familiar, yet so strange. She finally drifted off to sleep.

"Denise!" cried a voice in the cold, snow covered field. It was him! Denise ran as fast as her short legs would carry her. She was six years old and with her friend, Joseph. They both ran after the voice, which now took the shape of a monkey, so far ahead. The snow faded and darkness settled. Joseph was nowhere to be seen. Denise stopped, now being nine again, and looked around. Where did that monkey, who held the voice, go? She finally heard it again, "Denise! Angel!" but it was odd. There was a voice, but no body. And why Angel? She closed her eyes and took in a breath. When she opened her eyes she saw her room around her.

It was still dark outside. Denise sat at her desk after she woke up from the dream. She had had that dream before, or something similar. She knew she had. The voice was the one that called to her the night before her mother died. It was also the same one that she heard from behind Christine's door. She now grew so curious of this voice that spoke to Christine and herself, she wanted to listen from outside Christine's door again, and she wasn't even late to her lesson that day.

After her lesson, Denise searched for Christine. She found her once again on the stage, but this time alone, and sitting. She smiled and walked over to her.

"Hi!" Denise said politely. Christine looked up at her. She did not speak. She rose. "Are you okay?" asked Denise. Christine nodded and smiled. "I'm fine! I was just thinking!"

"About what?" asked the inquisitive Denise.

"Nothing" Christine said simply.

"Okay! Uh, by the way, who was...well...nevermind!" Denise said with a smile. Christine nodded to her in a 'good-bye' sense, then walked off to her dressing room. Denise followed stealthily. Once there, Denise listened outside the door. The two voices that sang the previous day were in there again. Denise fell in love with his voice. But who was _he_?

Denise listened to the two singing for about an hour or so, not paying attention to what they said, just listening. She finally stood up and went home. Who was that? This question would haunt her forever if she couldn't find out. That night she dreamt, once again, of _him_, that voice which she fell in love with each time she heard it.

**-x- **


	3. Letters

**Disclaimer:  
**Yeah, PotO's not mine. -Nod-

**Info:  
**Woo hoo! Chapter 3! Thanks Countess Alana for the review! Erik has absolutely no idea who Denise is. I guess you could say he's too caught up in Christine! So, yeah! Also, the story kind of follows both the book, and movie, but being a Phanfic, there will be numerous things that are different! Everybody will be OOC sometimes so just bear with it! - It's just for fun!  
I told you this one would be longer!

**-x-**

For quite a long time, Denise had been listening behind the door of Christine's dressing room. She had learned three things about the mysterious voice. His name is Erik, he comes to Christine and Christine alone, and he is her 'Angel of Music'. Denise grew jealous of these facts, but she couldn't figure out why. Every time she heard the Angel's voice, more anger grew in her towards Christine. Somehow she had to get this Angel, but how? Still, time passed and Denise listened. Her dreams were always filled with Erik's voice, that sweet, powerful, hypnotizing voice. Yet, Time still pressed on.

Denise was now twelve years old. She never broke her habit of waiting in her dressing room for an hour or so after her lesson, then go to Christine's door. On days she didn't have a lesson, she would lie in her bed dreaming of Erik's voice filling the room. There really wasn't anything better to do. M. Tiquet was usually playing the piano. Denise loved this, because when M. Tiquet sang, Erik's voice would cover up his and sooth Denise. Was she going mad? Funny how a twelve-year-old can be so much in love with something she has never even seen!

Denise was getting ready to go to her lesson one day when M. Tiquet's servant, Arnald Vanier, came into her room holding an envelope. He handed it to Denise and left the room casually. Denise raised an eyebrow at the envelope, then, sighed and read the front. It said: "To my lovely Denise". She opened the envelope carefully and read the letter, written with slanted writing, in black ink. She recognized it as M. Tiquet's writing.

_Denise, I'm afraid I have to take a short leave of absence. M. Vanier will care for you in the meantime. Please try to understand. I'm headed to London to visit my sick, old mother. I've spoken of her to you. She is on her death bed and requested I come to visit. Don't get yourself in trouble! I will be back in a few weeks. Perhaps a month if things do not go as planned. I left shortly after I handed this to M. Vanier, I'm sorry I didn't get to say good-bye in person. I figured you wouldn't care anyways, with the way you've been acting.  
Much Love,  
Roland Tiquet_

Denise slipped the letter back into the envelope. Now thinking about it, she hadn't been speaking to M. Tiquet lately, or doing things around the house for him. He must've thought she was useless. Denise slowly walked out of her room, now feeling bad that she had not been able to see her guardian off. She set the note on the piano and stared at it for a few minutes. M. Tiquet was the only man who had ever been a father to her, and now she wouldn't see him for a while. For once, her mind was not on Erik. She looked at the time and panicked. She was going be late again.

When Denise got to the opera house, Elisabeth was not there. Denise sighed at the thought of not being able to tell her about M. Tiquet. She tried to put it from her mind, and thought of Erik. He was the only thing that she had to believe in at that moment. She smiled and did not worry the rest of the lesson.  
While Denise was sitting in her dressing room after the lesson, Meg Giry walked in slowly with a piece of parchment. She set it on a small table and backed out of the room. A girl, getting dressed, picked it up and squealed. "It's a letter!"

"Who is it addressed to?" another girl asked with a giggle.

"Oh, it's for Denise," exclaimed the first girl. She tossed it to Denise with a small sigh. Denise blinked at getting yet another letter that day, when she rarely got any. There was no envelope, but the letter was folded as if it would have been in an envelope. Denise unfolded it. It was written with black ink, like the previous letter, but it had finer writing. She read to herself.

_Denise Anne Collard, I have noticed that you have been acting very strange lately. It took me a while, but I think I have guessed why. Christine Daae has an Angel of Music. You've heard, and you have become obsessed with this Angel, this Erik. This is correct, is it not? All I can say to you now is to not get mixed up in the business of the Angel. He is not of good company. I cannot speak of him to you in person, for he does not like it. I cannot tell you anything more about him, for I do not know. You must never speak of him to anyone. Stop listening from behind Christine's door. Stay out of Christine's business. Is this understood? Thank you. _

The letter was not signed by anyone, but Denise had her thoughts of who it was from. She ran out of the room to see if she was right. She had to find Mme. Giry. It had been Meg who brought the note in, perhaps her mother had her do so after she wrote it. Or perhaps it was the well known Opera Ghost who had given her this note. Denise giggled at the thought. She had known that the Opera Ghost only would send letters through Mme. Giry from somewhere in Box 5. Somehow Denise doubted it was from him though!

Denise soon found Mme. Giry sweeping the stage. She didn't look up at Denise. "Mme. Giry!" Denise called, "Did you, by any chance, write to me a letter that was not signed?"

Mme. Giry looked up. She did not say anything for a moment, but just stared at Denise, still clutching the note. After a short silence, she finally spoke, but in a somewhat harsh voice. "Denise, everything on that letter must be understood. It doesn't matter who sent it, the Angel, the Ghost, or myself. You must leave things be." With that, Mme. Giry walked off the stage and through a side door.

Denise began to walk out of the opera house. She figured it must have been Mme. Giry who sent the letter. If it was the Opera Ghost, the writing would've been in red. She overheard M. Lefevre, the Opera's manager, once speaking of the blood red ink that the Opera Ghost used for his letters. Denise stopped abruptly. Why would Mme. Giry even mention the Ghost? He didn't have anything to do with the Angel, did he? It seemed extremely odd that Mme. Giry would tie the Ghost in with this. The Ghost couldn't have sent it...could he? Denise was sure that the Angel hadn't sent it, unless the Angel also sent letters through Mme. Giry. That was doubtful. Denise shook these thoughts from her head. It was all too confusing.

That night she went to Joseph Vernet's house. She had to do something to get her mind off of not visiting Erik's voice, teaching Christine to sing. As she got to the door, Mme. Vernet was coming out. She smiled at Denise. "Here for Joseph?" she asked politely. Denise nodded. Mme. Vernet sighed. "He's not here right now, but he asked me to give you this." she handed Denise an envelope.

Denise sat at her kitchen table staring at the three notes she had gotten that day. She hadn't opened Joseph's yet, and feared to. She was too afraid it would contain bad news. She closed her eyes and slowly ripped open the envelope. The letter seemed like someone had stuffed it in there rather quickly. It was wrinkled at the corners. Denise unfolded it and examined the writing. It was very sloppy with scribble marks here and there, yet again, in black ink. She inhaled deeply and began to read:

_Denise, I'm sorry that I wasn't around to give you this. I went with my father to Australia to research. Australia is quite far away from Paris and I won't be back for a while. It may be even a few months. I decided that I had better tell you something I had been forever longing to tell you. I can't tell you though. You must do a riddle. I haven't had a chance to talk to you for so long, so this is payback. What happened to you? Anyway, I left something under your doormat in front of your house. If you would be so kind to retrieve it. Thank you!  
Yours friend always,  
Joseph_

Denise read the note over a few times. What did that mean? Solve the riddle to find out what he wanted to tell her? It just made no sense. Once again she read over Joseph's letter.

She went outside and lifted up her doormat. Under it, there was a key, and yet another note. This new note simply said: _Behind the bush. In front of the window. -Joseph._ Denise didn't understand. She gathered up the note and key and went inside. She set the key and all four letters she had received that day on her nightstand. She would figure it out later.

The next morning, Denise woke up and got ready for her lesson. However, the letters on her nightstand caught her eye. She picked up the one she found under her doormat. _Behind the bush. In front of the window. _What did it mean? Maybe it had something to do with her house. She ran outside and looked at all her windows. There wasn't even a bush in from of any of them. She sighed. Maybe it's Joseph's bushes? No, there wasn't time to look. Denise began to walk to the opera house. She really had no intention of going, though. Not even for Erik. She slowed her pace and eventually came to a stop. Without further question, she raced to Joseph's house.

Once there, she ran around his house, looking at the windows. There were bushes all right, but nothing of interest behind them and in front of the window. She sighed and sat at a bench in the yard. She looked down and saw a wooden horse halfway buried in the dirt and grass. She unearthed it and examined it. This was one of the horses that she played with. It was her favorite as a child. She remembered everything about it except it's name. Joseph used to play with a horse that they pretended had fallen in love with Denise's. They had wooden props to set up a scene as well. Denise's horse lived in a stable with one window, a tree in front, and a rose-bush on the side. Joseph would have his horse wait by the rose-bush so Denise's could see him through the window in the morning._ Behind the bush. In front of the window._

Denise gasped. Is that what Joseph meant? It may have been! At any rate, how could that be what he wanted to tell Denise? She already knew about the horses. She sighed and glanced over to the garden, the place where they had once played their: Behind the bush. In front of the window game. She stood up and walked over slowly. There was a small patch of dirt where the props seemed to have recently been set up. That's an odd sort of thing. Maybe it had to do with the riddle. She kneeled down and touched the rose-bush. She noticed the dirt between the stable window and the bush had been dug up. Once again, that is an odd sort of thing. She dug the earth up. A box with a lock was uncovered. The lock that the key belonged to. Denise giggled and ran home with the box.

Once in her room, Denise slammed the door and locked it. She was completely happy with herself for solving this riddle. She slipped the key in the keyhole and twisted. It worked! The lock was free! Carefully, Denise opened the box, but only to find another note. Denise sighed hysterically. How much more of this could she take? As she read this note, her eyes widened and her mouth opened slightly. _I Love You Denise _was all the note said. Was Joseph serious? Did he really love her? She didn't love him though! She loved Erik! But what's the use of loving Erik? The Angel she would never see. He would never even know she existed. Thinking of this, Denise started to cry. She hadn't cried in so long. She collapsed on her bed, the small note still clutched in her hand that confessed Joseph's love to her. She fell asleep, and dreamt a dream that she never had before. She was with Joseph. It was just them, and the horses.

**-x-**


End file.
